Something Comparable to a Life
by aspookah
Summary: Dennis Rafkin did indeed have something comparable to a life before he met Cyrus Kriticos... And he wasn't always alone.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: whatever, sue me. All you'll get is an empty piggy bank, three dollars from my wallet, and a fish named Mafia...

**Prologue**

_Flashback_

"There's Dennis Rafkin," a young girl said as she crossed to the other side of the street with her friend. "He talks to ghosts..."

The downside to living in a small rural town was that gossip, both good news and bad, got around faster than the speed of light. Finally, though, after ten years, the reason for the indescribable pain that shot through his body when he made physical contact with another was determined. He knew what was 'wrong with him', but when he'd try to explain it, he was simply perceived as even crazier.

The visions and pain had only started just after his fifth birthday, and just before the death of his father, which, unfortunately, the gifted child had to witness through clairvoyance as his father embraced him for the last time. And as the visions kept coming, the pain continued to escalate.

Now, bordering on sixteen years of age, he was still as much of an outcast as ever, and missed out on a normal social life almost completely. To top it off, life at home wasn't exactly peaches as cream, either, with a mother in complete denial of his special abilities, and an abusive alcoholic of a stepfather.

On a higher note, living in a small town meant that he knew everyone, those who would accept him, or rather they just were more interested than scared, and those who believed him to be a dangerous sort of freak. Unfortunately, the people living in that rural area seemed to have their minds downsized to be in proportion with their small town...

So was the early life of Dennis Rafkin.


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: still not mine. Doesn't that suck...

A/N: God, hopefully this doesn't turn out to be a mary-sue. That would suck. Anyway, I wrote this a while back... I mean a WHILE. Sooooooooo, yeah. I just figured Dennis something comparable to a life before/other than working for Cyrus...

**Chapter One **

_Flashback_

Once again, Dennis had the whole sidewalk to himself, as everyone else, regardless of what direction he or she was headed in, fled to the other side as to avoid the clairvoyant teen. Those who weren't afraid of his sheer abilities were scared that he might uncover something of their personal lives.

Eyes fixed to the cement he was walking over, he slowly scuffed his feet along the sidewalk, making his way home. Catching him completely off guard, he felt a body swiftly brush past him, heading in the opposite direction. As he stopped moving all together, he stiffened himself and clasped his eyelids shut, preparing for the rush of pain to hit him in one hard blow, and show the events of a life like a picture show.

But it never came.

Utterly confused, Dennis slowly blinked his eye open and turned to stare at whomever he had just bumped into. To his surprise, it was his new neighbor, wit whom he had avoided any type of contact with since her move in next door. She looked like a young deer ready to flee, wide-eyed and alert.

"Jules," Dennis began, shock seeping into his voice. That was the extent of his knowledge about her: her name.

"I'm so sorry," she started apologetically, the sunlight dancing on her dark hair, now slightly calmer.

Suddenly, Dennis unexpectedly grabbed her hand. Nothing. He released it, then repeated the slightly peculiar action. Oddly, there wasn't the faintest trace of questioning present on her face.

Seemingly sensing his confusion of thoughts, Jules said softly, "I have a secret of my own."

In sheer disbelief, Dennis could only nod. He realized that this was what he had been waiting for: a person with whom a linking did not occur.

"May I walk with you?" Jules smiled sweetly, calmly, seemingly reading his happy emotions.


	3. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: does anyone actually check these? Not mine. So there.

**Chapter Two**

_Ten Years Later _

Dennis awoke with a start. He had fallen asleep on the couch again, and could hear the soft sound of breathing from the floor beside him. Looking at her sleeping form, he let a small sigh escape as he brushed a piece of hair from her face. Almost ten years, and she had never left his side, not when the people of their town opposed him, and not when he had moved far from that Godforsaken place to New York City. As her eyes fluttered open, she stared gently up at him.

"The floor isn't exactly the most desirable place to get a good night's sleep, you know," he smiled. She returned a soft grin and curled back into a fetal position.

He felt slightly guilty about not telling her of the newfound job opportunity, but it was late, or rather early. Glancing at the clock's report of 3:57 a.m., Dennis slipped into a dreamless sleep as he let his arm drape gently over the warm shoulder beside him.

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"Do you want breakfast?" she asked brightly, popping her head into the small living room of their apartment, smiling cheerfully.

"Jules, you can't cook..." Dennis replied, hauling himself into a sitting position on the couch, his brow furrowed slightly.

"What, haven't you ever heard of McDonald's breakfast menu?!" she said as a quirky smile played on her face.

As Dennis strolled groggily into the kitchen, he saw Jules switch on the coffee pot and sit down at the table quietly.

"When were you planning on telling me?" she asked, eyebrows raised, still a small grin on her lips.

"About what?"

"Job offering..."

"Must you do that?" Dennis put a hand to his throbbing forehead. He definately hadn't gotten enough sleep...

"I wasn't even sifting through your emotions..." Jules mused, "I could tell by your disposition of late." He looked at her like a guilty child who had gotten caught taking cookies from the jar. "So what do they want you to do?" she asked quietly. He knew she hated that he used his gifts for such 'jobs', but it wasn't like he could work at Burger King without getting a reading from something...

"Don't know," he answered with a groan.

"Where?"

"Don't know."

"Why?"

"How would I know _why_ when I don't know _what_?" he snapped, more coldly than he would have preferred. "Sorry," he tried to apologize, his voice more gentle.

"No, I understand," she looked at him with her grayish eyes. "It's just, there's some crazy shit they ask you to do sometimes..."

"Yeah, no kidding."


End file.
